Every Moment
by Jessica237
Summary: JC. Every moment with his family was precious, something to be treasured. And Jake simply refused to sacrifice this moment for something as comparably trivial as sleep.


**Title: **Every Moment**  
By:** Jessica**  
Pairing:** Jake/Calleigh**  
Rating:** T  
**Timeline: **AU. Part of the Endless Sacrifice series; precedes Constant Compromise.  
**Summary: **Every moment with his family was precious, something to be treasured. And Jake simply refused to sacrifice this moment for something as comparably trivial as sleep.

**A/N: **This is a _complete _rewrite of a story that I first posted in early 2007, but ultimately removed due to being unhappy with the writing itself. Three years and several thousand words later, I'm a lot happier with the outcome. My greatest thanks goes out to the amazing randomwriting, because if not for her support and encouragement, this story would not have happened. So, this one's for you, and I hope it's all you thought it would be. :)**  
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_June 27th, 2007_

-:-_  
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The rain fell ceaselessly from the dark sky above, pounding against the roof overhead with a vengeance that only a tropical summer rainstorm could muster. The electricity had been taken out over an hour ago, though whether by deadly lightning or roaring wind, Calleigh Duquesne couldn't say. She did, however, know without the aid of electricity that the time was nearing four in the morning, two hours before she would need to drag her tired body from beneath the blankets that currently locked her away from the angry storm outside. Sleep simply would not come; the elusive fiend had danced just outside of her grasp for several nights now, ever since the night that Jake had gotten that call…

Calleigh flinched, her body tensing as the room was suddenly illuminated by a bright flash of lightning; predictably, the crash of thunder in the clouds outside followed, a deafening boom that left her wanting to shield her ears. She shivered then, her mind slowly filling with thoughts of the quickly approaching morning when she would be forced to venture out into that merciless storm, certain to be soaked clear to the bone by the time she made it the short distance from the front door to her car. The night before, she'd come home during a bit of an interlude between showers, and without thinking, she'd left her umbrella in the car. That was clearly a mistake – Calleigh hated the rain. Hated being caught in it even more. There was little that disgusted her more than the feel of wet, sticky fabric clinging damply to her skin, infusing her body with a chill that would persist long after seeking out dry clothing. Just the thought left her shivering again, and Calleigh gingerly rolled onto her side, burrowing deep into the warmth of his body.

She hadn't been sure if he was awake or not, but the question was answered as Jake's arms slowly closed around her, gently drawing her even closer to him. His lips tenderly brushed against her hair as two lone words reached her ears, his voice low and slightly gruff, but in no way touched by sleep – clearly, his night had been just as sleepless as hers had been. "You okay?"

Despite the heaviness that filled her heart, Calleigh managed a small smile as she breathed in his comforting scent. It served to her as a reminder that he _was_ there; that while he would be gone soon, he wasn't yet. And somehow, just somehow, simply being in his arms left the rain on the roof sounding much less angry, and instead more soothing. More like a refreshing afternoon shower, invited in to cool away the oppressive heat and stifling humidity of the day, and less like the blowing, pounding fury from the very outside band of a passing tropical storm that it was. That was typical Jake, though – he _was_ her calm from the storm. Just being in his arms, just knowing that he was there…that was all it took. Everything was better with Jake around, and that was a fact that Calleigh couldn't deny, even at the times she was the angriest at him.

And that was just one of a million things that made it harder and harder on her with every time he had to leave. Her body would tense more and more with every ring of his phone; her stomach would twist with worry that he would answer, only to discover that it was _that_ call, the one that would take him away from her yet again. It made such an innocent sound seem even worse than the torrential rain above, even accompanied by the shrill whistle of the wind.

Merely a couple of days ago, those fears had come to the surface as the call she'd dreaded had finally come through. The grave look in Jake's eyes had stolen her breath, leaving her suddenly weakened, grasping at the kitchen counter for stability. For the first time, though, he'd been given advance warning before his assignment; usually, the call would come, and Jake would be out the door that very same night. This time, he'd been given four days' warning, and even though they'd made the most of every waking second since then, it still wasn't enough for Calleigh – she was certain it wouldn't be enough even with a year of advance warning.

For now, though, Calleigh forced those darker thoughts from her mind, focusing in on the soothing caress of his hands over her back. Jake was still there, still sharing her bed just as he was meant to; holding her in his arms just as he was supposed to. For at least a few moments in time, everything was right, and Calleigh sighed softly, nuzzling even closer to him. "Yeah…" she murmured, in response to his earlier inquiry. Tilting her head, she brought her lips gently to his chest, depositing a tender kiss to the skin just above his heart. "I just can't sleep, that's all…"

Jake could feel the tension in her body, and with everything in him, he wanted nothing more than to soothe that away in any way he could. Again he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo. His heart already ached at how dearly he knew he would miss that; how dearly he knew he would miss the moments like this. "Really?" he breathed quietly, summoning up a low chuckle – he knew he could make her smile. "I find that just a bit hard to believe."

Calleigh drew away from him, just enough to gaze up at his face as a flash of lightning in the sky outside illuminated his features. "Yeah? Why's that?"

He grinned then, and if the room hadn't once again faded into the dark of night, Calleigh would've seen the playful spark flicker through his eyes. "'Cause I thought you were pretty worn out by the time we made it out of the shower earlier…"

To Jake's glee, the teasing comment drew a soft giggle from the blonde beside him. Heat flooded her cheeks, and Calleigh was momentarily glad for the darkness. "I _was _worn out, but that's because I had a tiring day at work today," she quipped, playing along with him.

"No," Jake drawled leisurely, his fingertips dancing rhythmically along her hip. "I didn't see you yawn once during dinner, or afterward…" He smirked. "I happen to know that _I_ tired you out."

"Yeah. Because you're _that_ good," Calleigh quipped dryly, playfully rolling her eyes.

"I know I am." Jake snickered, knowing that if he could see her better in the dark, he'd be delighted to find her cheeks tinting under his relentless teasing. "Don't even try to pretend I'm not, because you can't."

"Yeah?" Calleigh challenged, propping herself up on her elbow. Gazing down at Jake, she could just make out that maddening grin of his in the dark. "If you're that good, then why can't I sleep now?"

If possible, her question left his grin widening. "Probably because you want more of me."

At that, Calleigh couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, that's _exactly_ it. How could I not, as damn charming as you are tonight?" she teased.

"Well, that _is_ why you love me, right?" Jake quipped smoothly. "My charm, my dashing good looks." He paused, letting his fingertips drift slowly beneath the cotton tee Calleigh wore to sleep in, an old, well-worn and comfortable one of his. "My _impeccable_ ability to leave you breathless and calling out my name…"

Calleigh gave a low hum, fighting back a shiver as his fingertips encountered bare skin at her hip. "Don't forget the arrogance. The cockiness. _So_ attractive," she retorted with sarcasm, swatting playfully at his chest.

"It _is_," Jake smirked. "I know I like it on you, anyway." Calleigh opened her mouth to protest, but Jake beat her there. "Cocky Calleigh is sexy," he remarked low, his voice little more than a rumble to Calleigh's ears. "And don't even say you're not," he continued, cutting her off again. "When you're riled up, you give it just as good as I do."

"I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult," Calleigh quipped sweetly.

"Compliment, definitely…" Jake replied appreciatively, rolling slowly onto his back and clasping his hands behind his head on the pillow. "I _like_ it, after all…"

Cheeks flushing, Calleigh tucked a lock of blonde behind her ear, unable not to grin. She didn't retort, though – if he managed to get her any _more_ flustered, Calleigh knew there would be even less hope of sleep, less even than she had right now. The realization brought her crashing back into what had started the playful conversation, and Calleigh felt her smile slowly fade. With a sigh, she shifted beside him enough to fit her body against his, laying her head atop his chest. She felt an arm encircle her body, coaxing her lips to curve once more, though not quite as much as before. She concentrated on that and on the steady beat of his heart, just beneath her ear. The sound was comforting like nothing else, just the lullaby that could soon lead Calleigh into dreams. "So why – why are you still awake?" she asked, fighting back a yawn.

An innocent question, but as soon as it had left her lips, Calleigh felt the mood between them give a noticeable shift. Jake didn't quite tense, but there was something else about him that gave it away – Calleigh couldn't pinpoint it; she simply knew it was there, could _feel _it. Instinctively, she reached out, seeking to offer any comfort she could by linking her fingers with his. Jake shrugged slightly, hesitating a moment before returning the gentle squeeze of her hand. "It's just the rain," he lied softly, his fingertips dancing in a shivery cadence along the length of Calleigh's spine.

Calleigh sighed heavily, seeing directly through that in the way that only she could. "Jake, babe, you _know_ I don't believe that," she admonished softly, offering his hand a gentle squeeze. "We both know you'd sleep through an earthquake – a little rain isn't going to keep you up." If she hadn't known the truth of that before, she'd have known it now, thanks to the dead giveaway of his heartbeat. The pace increased, pounding just a little faster against his chest, against her ear. But despite her soft admonishment, Jake didn't offer an explanation, and Calleigh gave a small nod as her suspicions were confirmed. "You're thinking about the assignment."

For a moment longer, there was nothing but silence between them, broken only by the sounds of the storm – the piercing one that raged outside, as well as the quieter yet more intense one that brewed within. Jake gave a deep sigh, simply reveling in the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips – having her in his arms soothed him like nothing else, but even now, as the deadline for his next assignment was looming just over the horizon, he couldn't deny that his nerves were beginning to wear away at him. "I am."

Shifting in his arms, Calleigh once more pressed a gentle kiss to his chest, allowing her lips to linger just above his heart in a silent declaration that she was there. And she _was_ there, no matter what. Despite the fact that she didn't always agree with his choice of career, she couldn't deny that she needed him. She needed to be with him; he was the only man who had ever made her truly happy. "Worrying about it isn't going to change anything," she whispered against his skin, deep sincere emerald meeting dark and troubled brown. "Trust me," she whispered. "I know."

"I know…" he repeated, though in his voice, there existed far less certainty in the words. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes as Calleigh lay her head upon his chest again, her silky blonde locks tickling his skin – it was the little sensations such as that that he'd learned to treasure over the years, committing each to memory lest he lose his hope completely during those dark, long and lonely nights. "I'm just confused, I guess," he mumbled, his fingers tracing random shapes over the silky skin of her back. "I don't know what to do, what to say." He hesitated, biting at the inside of his cheek. When he spoke again, Calleigh felt her heart clench for him; the pain in his words was apparent, raw, utterly unhidden. "Sometimes I feel like I don't know _anything_ anymore, Cal."

A rolling peal of thunder echoed from just above, and Calleigh couldn't help but shudder in his arms. She was never a fan of storms; even less so of thunderclaps like that one – they always startled her, made her jump, and Calleigh didn't appreciate being caught off guard. Beyond that, the sheer volume reminded her of the deafening roar of turmoil, and there was enough of that in her life already. It wasn't something she wanted to be reminded of, especially not in this moment. This was a moment she wanted to grasp hold of, something she needed to lock away, something that would guide her through the coldest and darkest of the nights – she didn't want any sense of turmoil attached to this memory.

But with Jake…Calleigh knew that as long as he worked UC, the turmoil would _always_ be there. The realization brought a frown to her lips and a cold chill to her heart, and Calleigh shifted in his arms, bringing her gaze once more back to his. Another flash of lightning lit up the room, shining light onto every troubled muscle in his face, from the furrow at his brow to the downward slope of his lips. "Do you _want_ to do this, Jake?" she asked quietly, knowing it was a question she asked repeatedly, without hope of a different answer.

Sure enough, Jake gave the same reasoning he always gave, just as soon as the question had left Calleigh's lips. "Calleigh, I _have_ to. It's my job."

"I know that, Jake," she replied patiently, pausing for a moment. "But do you _want_ to do this?"

And that was a question that opened a locked chest of reasons and doubts, a chest that Jake had done his best to lock forever away. He couldn't lie – he'd started the UC work because he _did_ enjoy it. Jake loved the thrill, and even if he didn't agree with some of the requirements that working undercover carried, he enjoyed far too much the chance to be someone else for awhile. In the streets, he wasn't Jake Berkeley; out there, he had a whole different life, _many_ different lives, and there was just something about that that he found exhilarating. He played a part, a part that would have dire consequences if he didn't play it perfectly, and Jake had _always_ found that to be part of the thrill.

And he _still_ enjoyed it. It was still a part of him, still so deeply ingrained in everything that he was, and Jake wasn't sure he could turn away and go to a desk job for the rest of his career. Even during the in-between, while working set hours in homicide he couldn't deny the restlessness that evolved inside of him. He craved the unpredictability, writing off the selfishness in the pit of his stomach by knowing that he was providing for his family. It wasn't often that people landed a career they truly enjoyed, and even though it was a constant push-and-pull for him, Jake didn't quite know if he could yet walk away from it. He hated the anguish his life caused his family, wished more than anything that he could wash all of it away, but the circumstances weren't that simple. He _could_ walk away, but if he did that, he wasn't guaranteed another job – and _then_ how would he help provide for them? For _Leah?_

He wasn't sure he could win either way. If he changed nothing, he left Calleigh and Leah sick with worry, lonely until he returned. Along with that went the inevitable risk to his life – he was risking _life_ for the exhilaration that working UC brought him. It was selfish of him, and he couldn't bite that feeling back. But if he walked away, Jake walked away from the absolute certainty of job security. He walked away from a career he'd enjoyed for much of his adult life – it would be like asking Calleigh to walk away from ballistics, from CSI. He wasn't sure she could do it either.

The reality of the matter was that he felt pulled in all directions all at once. He wanted _everything_, while at the same time, he wasn't sure he had any idea of what he wanted at all. The pressure was suffocating; he had a responsibility to the job, as well as a responsibility to his family – he loved both. He wanted to hold onto the job, but at the same time, he wanted to be with his family.

Softly, Calleigh called his name into the silence, breaking through the thoughts that had taken over his mind. "I have to do this," he repeated quietly, his voice sounding almost foreign to him. "I do want to do this."

Calleigh nodded slowly, unable to quiet the growing feeling of defeat. She couldn't lie to herself – she'd wanted him to say no, more than anything. The fact that he hadn't…it left her heart clenching tightly in her chest, filling her with an ache that usually didn't appear until Jake was gone again. "Then there's your answer," she replied simply, surprised at the clarity in her voice. But then again, she'd always been good at keeping her emotions at bay.

To that, Jake couldn't reply. He felt horrible, but the reality was that it simply _wasn't_ a choice he could make right now. It should have been easy, choosing between his career and his family, but the current situation, however undesirable at times, granted him _both_ of those. And it wasn't _at all_ that he couldn't decide which was more important – Calleigh and Leah would win that battle every single time. The problem came in when Calleigh and Leah became part of the equation, when they became reasons why he _should_ keep his job. They had a nice house in a lovely neighborhood; after the bills were paid each month, there was always a nice cushion of money for the fun things in life – trips to the zoo, the beach, little pleasures like that that brought smiles to both of his girls' faces. And part of that _was_ the extra income that came from working UC. It was part of the inherent responsibility that he'd taken on in becoming first a husband, and then a father - Jake wanted to be certain that Calleigh and Leah would always been taken care of.

Abruptly, a small creak cut through the silence and the thoughts in Jake's head. He knew that sound, and he let out a deep breath, thankful for the sudden distraction. If there was anything that could bring a smile to his lips at this moment, it was the source of that small noise – the small creak, as well as the subsequent, telltale shuffle of tiny feet on the floor below. Lifting his head, he pressed a quick kiss into Calleigh's hair. "I think we have company," he whispered.

Sure enough, a tiny, timid voice spoke up from the side of the bed, just barely audible over the rain above. "Mommy? Daddy?"

Despite the turmoil that still reigned within her, Calleigh felt a smile tug at her lips. Only slightly reluctantly, she extricated herself from Jake and pulled herself upright, her eyes searching for her daughter in the darkness. "What is it, Leah?" she asked softly, automatically reaching for the little girl.

Jake sat up, stretching idly, a smile on his lips as he watched Calleigh effortlessly lift the little girl onto the bed. In that moment, the only one without a smile was Leah; even in the darkness, Jake could perceive the slight quiver of her lower lip; reaching out, he gently brushed a knuckle over the little girl's cheek, his heart breaking as his touch encountered the unmistakable moisture of tears. "What's the matter, Sweetheart?"

"Can't sleep," she mumbled, rubbing at her tired eyes. Her voice, if possible, grew even more timid as she continued, clutching her favorite blanket with such a strong grasp for a five-year-old. "I'm scared."

Jake gave a warm smile, softly patting the bed between himself and Calleigh in invitation. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Angel," he said gently, watching as Leah scrambled out of Calleigh's arms, wanting to be between both of them.

Calleigh shifted slightly, offering the little girl more room. "Do you want to stay in here, Leah?" she asked quietly, though already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, Leah gave a vigorous nod. "The thunder is scary…" she mumbled, her voice trembling. She sniffled then, a definite giveaway to the tears she was trying to hide.

Jake felt his heart ache for her; it shattered completely when Leah whimpered, a definite precursor to the sobs that bubbled just beneath the surface. He reached out, gathering the little girl into his arms as she dissolved completely into tears, burying her face against his chest. Her tiny body shook with the force of her sobs, and Calleigh couldn't help but move closer to the both of them, reaching out and soothingly brushing her fingers through Leah's tousled blonde hair, gently smoothing out the tangles. "Oh, Leah…" she murmured, resting her head against Jake's shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that there was more to Leah's tears than just fear of the storm. She _was_ afraid; that much was never in question. But she'd never broken down so completely just because of the thunder, no matter how intense.

And Calleigh knew what it was, loathe though she was to acknowledge it. Though she'd had four days to prepare for Jake's departure, they'd deemed it best not to tell Leah at that point in time. Four days was an _eternity_ to a five year old, and both Calleigh and Jake had wanted Leah to have as much uninterrupted, unblemished time with her father as was possible before he was wrenched away from them again.

It had been earlier that very evening, after dinner, that Leah had found out. As Calleigh had saved the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher, Jake had carried Leah into the den, placing her gently in the recliner, the one she knew as his recliner, the one that all three of them had spent countless nights curled up together in. He'd knelt in front of her, bringing himself down to her level, and quietly he'd broken the news to the little girl.

At the time, she'd taken it well, showing strength and understanding beyond her five years. Calleigh had lingered in the doorway, her heart breaking at the scene while it seemed _Leah_ was acting as the one to comfort _Jake_, being the one to assure him that she and her mother would be okay, the one with the most confidence that he would be back before they even knew it. And if that hadn't been enough, Calleigh'd had to turn away, hiding her tearing eyes as they'd embraced, father and daughter.

In the light of day, Leah had been strong. But perhaps now, the reality was settling in. The darkness was frightening, and the raging storm only worsened the fear. And even more than that, Leah now knew that within a couple days, her father wouldn't be there to comfort her. She wouldn't be able to seek solace in his arms, wouldn't hear the comforting rumble of his voice. And it was that which Calleigh was certain had brought the little girl to tears tonight.

For a while, Jake simply held her, allowing her sobs to run their course. When they'd given way to little more than sniffles and whimpers, he gently lifted her away from him, settling her on his lap. His touch almost heartbreakingly tender, he brought his thumbs to her cheeks, slowly wiping away the tears that marred her perfect features. "Sweetheart," he cooed, offering the best smile he could muster while his heart continued to clench oh so painfully in his chest. "You don't have to be afraid, okay? I promise I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Leah sniffled, glancing from Jake to Calleigh and back again. If anything, it was as though the reassurance was the complete opposite of what it was meant to be. Lifting her own hands, she rubbed again at her tired, now watery eyes; when she dropped her hands again and fixed Jake with those big brown eyes, eyes filled with tears, Jake felt the guilt tumble into the pit of his stomach before she even spoke. "But – but what happens when you leave again?" she whimpered, bottom lip quivering dangerously. "_Why_ do you have to leave me? _Why_? It's not fair!"

With that, the tears began to flow again, spilling onto her cheeks as the little girl once more began to sob, punctuated by a loud peal of thunder overhead; the thunder, though, was nowhere near as distressing to Jake as the sight and sound of his little angel crying in his arms. He gathered her close again, squeezing his own eyes shut as Leah simply shook harder. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured heavily, gently rubbing her back. "I'm sorry…"

His voice cracked, and that was it for Calleigh's resolve. She turned her head, hiding her face against Jake's shoulder as her own tears bubbled to the surface. It _killed _her, knowing her daughter's heart was breaking to pieces and there was absolutely nothing that could be done about it. There was only one thing that Leah wanted, and it was the one thing that Jake _couldn't_ do.

And for that, Jake hated himself. Hated himself for hurting Calleigh, for hurting Leah, for breaking their family. And that was what it was – they _were_ broken. Broken by instability, unpredictability, and suddenly there was no bigger regret in Jake's heart. Leah was crying, Calleigh was crying – trying desperately not to, but crying nonetheless – and the feeling it left Jake with was incredibly crushing.

And then there were the realizations that Jake just couldn't ignore – things he'd had to give up, things he'd missed. He'd missed _so_ much of Leah's childhood already. Every time he came home, Leah was filled with pride over new things she'd learned while he was gone, new toys she'd gotten, new accomplishments she'd made. And she was always so excited to fill him in on these whenever he came home. Now, Jake couldn't escape the guilt he felt – instead of Leah telling him the stories, instead of Calleigh showing him the pictures, he should've been _there_. He should've been right there, seeing it happen with his own eyes. He should've been hugging an exuberant Leah right as she learned something new, not weeks or months afterward.

And then, it hit him harder than anything else ever had before.

Leah was growing up.

And Jake was missing that.

Before he knew it, his little girl would be _gone_.

And for the first time, he was truly realizing that. While he was spending time out on the dangerous streets, just trying to survive, Leah _was_ living. And he was missing that. Who knew what he would miss this time? Her first day of kindergarten? Her sixth birthday? Would he come home to a daughter who was all grown up, ready to seek out her place in the world, not needing him there because she'd spent her entire childhood getting by without him?

It was heartbreaking…if Jake had any more heart _to_ break. His own eyes burned even as Leah's sobs began to subside along with the storm outside – within him, though, the storm was only just building to an agonizing crescendo. How much longer could he _do_ this? Breaking every heart present in that bedroom, his included, but more importantly the hearts of his little angel and the woman he'd pledged the rest of his life to? The circumstances were so very cruel; any solution would come with its dire consequences, consequences that Jake couldn't foresee until it was too late to change his mind.

But to continue on with the path he'd chosen so many years ago, to continue to turn his back on Calleigh and Leah as one cried and the other tried desperately not to…it left him feeling almost without a soul. The thought left him drawing Leah closer, holding her just as tightly as she clung to him. "I'm sorry, angel," he repeated, kissing the crown of her head.

Leah nestled her head beneath his chin, her tiny arms looped around his neck. "Don't go, Daddy," she hiccupped, blinking tired, red-rimmed eyes open in the darkness. "_Please_ don't leave me…"

"Angel," Jake began, his voice hoarse with emotion, emotion he attempted frantically not to show, despite the ever intensifying agony in his heart. "I have to, Angel. I'm sorry –"

"But – but I said please, Daddy!" she whimpered. "I said please!" Lifting her head, she looked to Calleigh, the scandalized look in her eyes apparent even in the dark of night. "Mommy says if – if I say please…" She turned back to Jake, the sorrow in her features plunging a cold icy block of nausea into his stomach. "_Why_ do you have to leave me?"

The exhaustion was clear in her voice; it was all that was keeping her tears at bay now – she no longer had the energy to cry. That in itself left Jake feeling even worse; gently, he brought his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks with his palms. "Sweetheart, it won't be long," he murmured, silently praying that his words were the truth – the truth was, though, that he had no way of knowing.

"That – that's what you said last time," Leah protested quietly. "You always say that…"

Jake swallowed hard, catching the sight of Calleigh dabbing at her own renegade tears from the corner of his eye. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice apologetic. "But I'll be home to you and Mommy as soon as I can, angel."

Leah sniffled, her dark, tear-filled eyes asking the question that tore Jake's heart to shreds before the words ever even left her pouting lips. "Do – do you _promise?_" she asked emphatically.

With those words, the despair in Leah's eyes rapidly morphed to an expression of hope, and really, that was more agonizing to Jake than the despair. To Leah, promises were nothing but golden. A promise _was_ a promise; it was all it took to make everything okay. Leah didn't _know_ a broken promise – Jake had given all that he was in order to never break one to his little girl. What she was asking him now, though…he wasn't sure he _could_ give her that.

But how could he possibly deny those eyes? Those big, beautiful brown eyes that told him in no uncertain terms that her very heart depended on his answer to that question. His own heart heavy, Jake forced what he prayed was a reassuring smile, wishing it was enough to turn the curve of Leah's lips upward as well – it wasn't, not quite. She'd made her request, and that was what it would take. "I – I promise, Leah," he murmured, knowing he couldn't possibly say anything else. "I promise I'll be home as soon as I can."

For a moment, Leah merely held his gaze, giving him the impression for more than just a second that she was seeing right through him – after all, it was _identical_ to the look that he'd sometimes gotten from Calleigh. But the moment passed and Leah relaxed, seemingly accepting his words as the reassurance she'd needed. "You can't break promises," she said very matter-of-factly, succumbing to a yawn that Jake had the feeling she'd been holding back for quite some time now.

"No, you can't, Angel," Jake agreed quietly, desperately searching his mind for something, _anything_ that would ease the foreboding burn that had begun in the pit of his stomach. "Listen," he began, gently brushing his fingers through the little girl's hair. "I don't have to go yet, sweetheart. So what do you say you and me go out for some breakfast in the morning, just you and me? Would you like that?"

"Can I have chocolate chip pancakes?"

Her ears had clearly perked at the prospect of some much-treasured father-daughter time, and Jake couldn't help but smile. "Sweetheart, you can have whatever you want."

Leah nodded, and finally, _finally_, there was that smile that Jake had desperately needed to see. Her eyes remained slightly moist, but at least there was the smile. "Whipped cream too? Sugar?"

Jake chuckled. "Absolutely," he replied, smirking as Calleigh gave a quiet groan next to him. "There's no reason to _always_ settle for just strawberries on your pancakes."

"Hey," Calleigh interjected softly, a slight smile on her own lips – though, like Leah's, her eyes remained filled with emotion. "There is _nothing_ wrong with strawberry pancakes."

"Of course not," Jake agreed quickly, sharing a conspiratorial wink with his daughter. "Chocolate chip is just better, right?" Leah nodded emphatically, forgoing a verbal reply as she struggled to fight back another yawn. She failed, though, and Jake smiled sympathetically. She'd had such a rough night – the exhaustion was clearly getting to her, but Leah was so reluctant to let it claim her. "You know what, angel?" Jake said after a moment. "Mommy has to work tomorrow, but you and me, we can spend the _whole_ day together, starting with breakfast. But in order to do that, you," he paused, gently tapping Leah's nose, eliciting a soft giggle. "You need to sleep, okay?"

A typical five year old, Leah usually wasn't so open to the idea of sleep, whether that be at night, or a nap during the day. But right now, she seemed to have no complaints with the idea. "I stay in here?" she asked sleepily, glancing from Jake to Calleigh as she made sure it was still alright – after all, the storm _was_ over, all but the rain, but she didn't want to go back to her own bed, not tonight.

"Of course, sweetie," Calleigh said softly, slowly maneuvering her own tired body in order to make room for Leah between herself and Jake, and, within moments, the little girl was tucked securely beneath the covers, safely between both her parents. Satisfied with the promises that her father had given her, it took not long for Leah to succumb to the exhaustion that she'd so valiantly fought, finally letting herself fall into what Jake prayed would be only good dreams.

Lost so deeply in the thoughts that plagued him, Jake watched through distant eyes as Calleigh's fingers gently stroked their sleeping daughter's hair, no doubt soothing Leah even in sleep. The scene was utter perfection; there was no prettier picture in Jake's mind than Calleigh and Leah together. She was so good with her, the perfect mother. But he…Jake could only swallow hard, forced to come to grips with a fear he wanted no part of. Did holding onto this job so tightly make him a bad father? Everything that he'd missed, all the days and nights that he was absent from her life…had he failed Leah? And what about Calleigh – had he doomed her to a life with an absentee husband?

The agony of his thoughts was clearly written on his face, and Calleigh frowned, gently laying a reassuring hand over Jake's upper arm. "She'll be okay, Jake," she murmured, though even in her voice there existed a shred of doubt. Aware of that herself, Calleigh squeezed his arm, offering the comfort that her voice failed to convey. "_We'll_ be okay. She's just upset because she only found out tonight. Combined with the storm, which she's always been afraid of, it's just been a rough night for her. She's upset _and_ scared. She'll be okay."

But would she? Only time would tell, Jake knew. "I never wanted things to turn out like this," he said quietly, his lips in a definitive frown. "I hate this, Cal. When I – when I signed on for all of this, I never even imagined that I'd have a family at all. I didn't think ahead, you know?"

Calleigh offered a small smile, gently reaching over to clasp his hand. "No one does, really," she pointed out softly. "We were practically kids back then."

The guilt, however, was undeterred. "Still doesn't change the fact that I never even thought about what you would want, or even that we'd _have_ Leah…I didn't take _any_ of that into consideration when I signed on for this, and I _should_ have." He swallowed hard, suddenly unable to speak through the lump of emotion in his throat. "It just _kills_ me that I never even thought about what my choices would mean for you, for Leah…maybe if I'd taken one second to think about it, I could've – could've saved both of you some of this pain."

"Jake, even if you had thought about it, it wouldn't have done you any good," Calleigh pointed out gently. "There's _no_ way you could have known, and I _know_ you know that. I mean, sure, you may have made a different choice back then, and yeah, that could've changed everything. If you hadn't…" she hesitated, pursing her lips thoughtfully, though there was really no better way to word what she needed to say. "If you hadn't broken my heart back in New Orleans, I probably would have never come to Miami. And if you hadn't stuck with UC all of those years, _you_ might not have made it to Miami."

"We might still both be in New Orleans…"

Calleigh shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. You may have gotten a job offer somewhere up north or something; I could've gotten something out west. We could have gone our separate ways and _never_ ended up where we are now…" She turned her eyes downward, to their sleeping daughter between them. "With what we have now."

She exhaled deeply, lingering for a moment in the silence before continuing. "Back then, I never imagined that I would have married you. I mean, we were young; we were serious, yeah, but…I don't know. I fell hard for you, but between my plans and your work, and what happened with us back then, and all the miles we put between us after that – the miles _I _ put between us," she corrected, "I guess I just never really imagined we'd end up here together, especially after the way we ended things."

Jake murmured a quiet apology, one Calleigh had heard so many times; one she had _forgiven_ so many times already. She squeezed his hand gently, silently letting him know that before continuing. "I think…I think mostly I was afraid, though. I never – never thought that I could be _that_ wife," she admitted softly, a distant expression in her eyes. A sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and as she lifted her gaze back to Jake's, he was surprised to find fresh tears swimming in her eyes. "You know me – I was never okay with – with second place. All the nights when we were together before, the nights that I'd stay up waiting and worrying and wondering where you were…I didn't think I could – could commit to that for the rest of my life." Pausing, Calleigh pursed her lips, her eyes catching the subtle reflective glimmer of her wedding ring in the dark as Jake slowly brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "And then even before that ever became an issue, I thought I had everything planned out – I was going to graduate from the academy, do my time on patrol until I could work my way up to detective, then later to lieutenant – hell, I'd decided at twenty-two, before I even spent my first day at the academy, that I was going to be the chief of police someday," she said, a bit of a chuckle in her voice. "I had it _all_ planned out in my head, before I ever even met you. And I was going to be secure in my position before I ever let myself start looking for something serious in a relationship, because I was certain I didn't need that to interfere with my plans."

She gave a small smile and a half-shrug; when she continued, her voice was softer, touched by a quiet amusement. "And then, _you_ interfered with my plans."

Again Jake apologized, though this time, the rumbling chuckle in his quiet voice belied any remorse the words themselves might've carried – he wasn't sorry for that, and neither was Calleigh. She gave a tired smile, lazily stretching her aching body beneath the covers. "My point with all this is…you can plan ahead all you want, but nobody really knows where they'll be in a year's time, let alone ten or more. You were doing what you loved back then…and if you'd offered to give it up for me, I probably would've told you no." She paused. "No, I definitely would've told you no."

Slowly he shook his head, biting his lip in silent incredulity. "Why?" he asked simply, his voice little more than a deep sigh.

Her answer was as simple as his inquiry. "Because I love you," she said softly. "I love you, and I know you love what you do. I knew that back then, too." She paused, gently bringing her palm to Jake's lightly stubbled cheek. "I know I love what _I_ do, and it's not easy to find that in a career. As much as I wish some things were different…I'd never want to take that away from you. I didn't want to take that away from you back then, either – the difference though was that…I just _couldn't._ It was too much for me…and to be honest, it tore me apart, Jake. I – I couldn't live like that. Not then."

"So what changed?" he asked quietly, his hand covering hers at his cheek.

Calleigh shrugged. "Like I said…plans have a funny way of never working out." She paused, backpedaling with her words as her eyes lingered on Leah – it was definitely the wrong choice of words. "No, not working out. I mean, coming out the way you'd planned. Like I said, I had all these career-driven goals, and I know you did too. At that point in time, family was the last thing on my mind."

Between them, Leah sighed softly, her tiny body shifting beneath the covers as she slept. "And now look where we are…" Jake murmured, his eyes filled with love as he gazed down at her. "You know, if I had to pick one time in my life where I was truly terrified…I think it would have to be the night you told me you were pregnant. It wasn't something we'd really talked about, and I didn't know if I was ready for that. Ready to be – be a father. I mean, I was never any good with kids – I was an only, your brothers were far from being kids when we met, and I'd always spent too much time under to ever really interact with any during cases or anything like that." He paused then, a barrage of thoughts flitting through his conflicted mind as he watched their daughter sleep, the perfect combination of both himself and Calleigh, the best of them both. "I was afraid that I couldn't do it."

"Well, that's definitely a surprise to me," Calleigh quipped softly. "I think you've been amazing since day one." Though her observation was light, she couldn't ignore the weight of Jake's words. He'd never really shown himself to be verbose when it came to feelings and emotions. Cocky, playful banter, sure – he could keep that going for hours. But the matters that troubled his heart, that was something that Jake often kept close to himself, hidden from view, and Calleigh knew exactly why – he didn't want to plague her and Leah with those troubles, especially when it was imperative that they make the best of all of their time together. And beyond that…Jake simply wasn't the kind of person who readily shared his emotions anyway; Calleigh was another of those. She knew how difficult it was for him to open up like this now; she knew what it meant, and couldn't quite force back a shudder at the thought. For some reason, he was afraid. He was dreading this assignment, and Calleigh couldn't figure out if it was because it might actually be on a different level from all of the others, or if it was simply because he'd had time to allow the gravity of it to sink in this time. She could read a lot from simply looking into his eyes, but that was something that remained hidden, and she wasn't going to ask him point-blank. She just wasn't.

He smiled at her comment. "I've been working undercover detail for well over a decade, Cal. I'm good at hiding things when I need to," he reminded her. "Let's just say that's one of the things I've hidden from the moment you told me you were pregnant…until now."

"Now?" Calleigh repeated, an incredulous chuckle in her quiet voice. "But you're fantastic with Leah, babe. And God, she adores you more than _anything_."

Jake sighed, his smile fading – though only slightly, as it was nearly impossible _not_ to smile while stroking his fingers through his daughter's soft hair. "That's part of what – what scares me. What's going to happen to her if something happens to me? What if something happens _to her_ while I'm gone, while I'm under and have no way of knowing or finding out anything?"

For that, Calleigh had no answer. _That_ was what she tried to avoid, tried to busy herself during the days apart in order to keep from thinking. And now, Jake had voiced her greatest, most consuming fear – and made it clear that it was the one thing he too feared the most as well. It chilled her to the bone, hearing those fears – fears which could become a frightening reality any day – in his hushed voice, and she couldn't fight back the intense shudder that spread throughout her body.

She would never voice it, but every day that he was gone, she lived in silent fear that one day, she would get _that_ call. She would get the somber, uniformed officers on her doorstep with news that she begged them not to share. She would be the one to break the news to Leah that her father was never coming home again, and she would be the one who watched the slow, painful death of Leah's unmarred innocence. Those were the thoughts that kept her awake at night as well, sometimes even to the point of nausea, but never had she shared that with Jake. She knew that wasn't something he needed weighing upon his heart during the direst of situations he found himself in.

The emotions circulating through Jake's heart and soul were just as conflicted as the thoughts spiraling through his mind. Over the years, he'd tried to do his best to shield both Calleigh and Leah from the consequences of the life he led. And until tonight, he'd thought he'd succeeded at that for the most part. And then, his bubbly, happy daughter had broken apart in his arms, begging him not to go, clinging to him as though the grasp of her tiny hands would be enough to keep him home. It broke Jake's heart to pieces, and standing out from the flurry of tangled thoughts in his mind was one solid truth – it was going to be _much_ harder to leave this time than it had ever been before.

He could no longer deny the toll his absences were taking on her, on their family as a whole; wasn't sure how he'd ever overlooked it before. He knew, though, that if his assignments felt too long to him, they had to be an _eternity_ to Leah. Calleigh, too. "I know we can't keep doing this," he murmured finally, his voice rough as the words scratched against his throat. "Something needs to change. I just…I don't know. I don't _know._ I just know that when she started crying…"

He couldn't finish, but Calleigh didn't need him to. "Jake…"

Jake forced his eyes closed, desperately trying to dispel the visions that were flashing through his head. This was incredibly unfamiliar territory to him – it had always been so much easier to simply lock the fears and emotions away; to hide from them. Putting them out in the open had never come easily to him, and what little he'd shared had left him both emotionally and physically drained, and it had left him with no more answers than he'd begun with. All he knew was that he _couldn't_ do this tonight. If he allowed his mind to focus on this during the assignment; if he allowed all of this to weigh upon his heart while out there, it would be _much_ too easy to make the wrong move, to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. And even one wrong move would be enough to make his worst fear a reality. One wrong move would be all it took to leave Leah without a father.

And _that_ was what he needed to shut away. Nothing was going to be resolved until he returned anyway; Jake _couldn't_ take these kinds of emotions into the fray with him. He needed to compartmentalize, and, eyes closed, he forced himself to do just that. Sensing his struggle, Calleigh reached out slowly to him, gently laying her palm over his upper arm. It was a simple gesture, but to Jake it meant so much more. Calleigh was _there_. She was there; she wasn't going anywhere…she was the strength he needed right now.

Tenderly she squeezed his arm, silently reaffirming those truths. For now, that was what he needed. Composing himself, Jake sighed audibly, letting his eyes open once more. Between them, Leah continued to sleep soundly, unaware of the troubles that filled his own mind. Her innocence was clearly apparent on her face as she slept, and that finally, _finally_ brought a smile back to Jake's lips. "You know, she's growing up so fast," he murmured after a long moment. "I swear, it feels like just yesterday that I was holding her for the first time…" He trailed off, a reminiscent smile tugging slightly at his lips. "I still remember sitting in that hard, uncomfortable chair at your bedside, just holding her while you rested. Playing with the soft tufts of blonde hair on her head. And Leah – she opened her eyes for me while I held her. Didn't cry, didn't squirm, didn't act distressed. She just lay there in my arms and looked up at me – there's _still_ no way to describe what that was like. It was just…amazing."

The reverence in his voice was almost too much for Calleigh; as he continued, she found the corners of her eyes prickling with tears. "I spent all those months terrified of the day that she would finally come," he said, brushing a knuckle gently along Leah's cheek. "And then, the first time I looked into her eyes, I couldn't even _imagine_ not having her. I just – I – it would absolutely _kill_ me if something were to happen to her." He sighed softly, again forcing himself to drive away those darker images in favor of the beauty that often got him through some of his darkest days on the streets. "You know, I carry a picture with me. You and Leah. It's the only piece of _me_ that I carry with me, because I can't – _can't_ leave it behind. I know it's risky, but – but I keep it on me _all_ the time. And sometimes…when I feel like I'm in too deep, I pull out that picture of you and Leah. Seeing the two of you smiling back at me…it helps. It's like just seeing the two of you gives me the – the strength, the willpower to make it through whatever I'm dealing with."

He stopped there, finally lifting his eyes from Leah to Calleigh. "It's – it's a bit silly, I know," he said with a chuckle.

Calleigh quickly shook her head. While it was an admission that she might not have expected from Jake Berkeley, it certainly wasn't silly. "You know, that's how I used to convince myself that you were real," she said softly, a small smile at her lips. "When it was just you and me, way back when, I mean…" Pausing, she shrugged lightly as the memories flooded her mind – at the time, so long ago, they'd broken her heart, but with Jake beside of her, _alive and well_ beside of her, they brought her a reminiscent smile. "Sometimes I didn't – I wasn't sure you would come back to me. I, uh…might've spent a few nights with a picture of you, next to me on your pillow," she admitted, feeling the soft flush of heat in her cheeks. "I just…I missed you _so_ much, and…" She didn't need to finish the thought; one look into Jake's eyes told her that he knew. "Sometimes you were gone for so long that – that I wasn't entirely sure – I don't know, I think I was afraid that maybe I'd just…dreamed you or something." Over a decade later, the admission sounded almost foolish to an older, more mature Calleigh, but if Jake thought the same, he gave no indication.

Instead, Jake merely brought a gentle hand to Calleigh's face, lightly caressing the softness of her cheek. "I really hurt you, didn't I?" he murmured, and despite the final two words and the accompanying inflection in his voice, Calleigh knew it was more of a statement than a question. "Every time I left…I broke your heart. And I – I didn't even – couldn't –"

"Jake…" Calleigh blinked rapidly, attempting to chase away the prickle of tears in her eyes. She didn't have the strength to go down this road with what little bit of night remained. "I knew what I was getting into," she said finally, swallowing hard. "Being without you, worrying about you all the time…yeah, it hurt. It hurt like hell. But I knew what I was signing on for – I knew it wasn't going to be easy. But – but as much as I love you, it would hurt _more_ to walk away. The one time I did, it nearly _killed_ me. I couldn't even stay in the same city – I had to leave, had to reinvent myself, because everything that I was…was somehow _you_." Pausing, she gave a quiet chuckle of amusement at herself – she'd run away from him only to run right back into his arms. "And even then, apparently I couldn't get rid of you," she added, teasing him good-naturedly in an attempt to lighten the sudden heaviness in her heart.

Jake allowed himself a quick smirk, despite the fact that her words hit far too close to home. With a sigh he dropped his hand, slowly seeking hers out in the dark between them. "We need to figure something out," he said after a moment, returning to the point he'd made earlier. And they did. _He_ did. He would _not_ continue breaking the hearts of the two people who meant more to him than anything else in his life. "I wish I knew what to do…"

Calleigh nodded slowly, teeth worrying at her lip as her eyes drifted to Leah. "You know, I think there's only one thing we _can_ know with one hundred percent certainty," she said quietly, tenderly lacing her fingers with his. For a moment she merely waited, lingering in the relative silence. "And that's that we _can't_ do anything tonight. There's just not enough time – not tonight, not in the next couple of days before you leave. We can't do anything tonight. And we can lay here and worry about that for the next…hour or so," she estimated, having only a vague idea of the time. "Or we just lay here. Enjoy the moment for what it is."

And she was right. If there was one thing his job had taught him, it was that all aspects of life were unpredictable. Undercover work or not, there was always a chance that any moment might be the last. He'd always believed in living for the moment – the past was gone, and the future was yet to be decided – but that philosophy had become increasingly important to him in marrying Calleigh and having Leah. He _couldn't_ change the decisions he'd made in the past. He could worry about the future all he wanted, but in doing that, he would only sacrifice the time he _did_ have, time that could be taken away from him at any moment. And every moment that Jake had with Calleigh and Leah was far too precious to waste like that. Every moment had become one he truly treasured, and this one…this was no exception. If he could freeze this moment, with Calleigh beside him and Leah nestled between them, he would. He knew without a doubt that he would revisit this memory many times during the next several days, weeks, maybe even months. And he was quite certain it would carry him through even the darkest of nights.

Calleigh sighed softly, the sweet sound drawing Jake out of his reverie. "Even though there's nothing that can be resolved tonight," she began, reiterating her earlier words, "I do want you to know that whatever you end up doing, I'm going to be right here. _We'll_ be right here."

To that, Jake didn't have to respond. The depth of his gratitude, his love for his family was more than apparent in his dark brown eyes, even in the relative darkness of the bedroom. Even so, he swallowed hard, summoning up a slightly gravelly reply. "Thank you…"

Calleigh smiled, shivering a bit at the depth of emotion contained within those two words. Holding his eyes, she gave a slight nod of her head toward their sleeping daughter. "Why don't you try to get some sleep, babe?" she suggested softly, gently drawing a fingertip along his forearm. "You'll need your energy to keep up with Leah all day today…"

At that, Jake gave a quiet chuckle. All too well he knew the truth of her words – Leah was _always_ a little ball of endless energy, and her vocabulary did not contain the phrases _slow down _or _why don't we rest for a bit._ But somehow, whenever he was with his daughter, Jake found that energy almost contagious. Either that, or he simply could not sit and watch her pout while he took a moment to regain his own energy. And, as it was, Jake wasn't sure he would be getting much sleep within the next couple of nights anyway.

Instead, he merely sighed, threading his fingers once more through Leah's soft blonde hair. As she slept, the corners of her lips twitched upward ever so slightly, a gentle half-smile that melted Jake's heart. "And let this moment go to waste?" he replied after a moment, feeling a smile tug at his own lips. "Not a chance."

And with that, he settled himself in for the remainder of the night, knowing with one look into her eyes that Calleigh had no intention of seeking sleep either, despite the early shift he knew she worked in the morning.

At this point in his life, there was a lot about his life of unpredictability that Jake found himself questioning, but there was one thing he'd learned throughout the past several years, one thing he would never question the truth of.

Every moment with his family was precious, something to be treasured. And Jake simply refused to sacrifice this moment for something as comparably trivial as sleep.


End file.
